The Husband School Page 15

  Yes, the truth was that he’d blamed her for a lot of things that happened that year, but she’d been the only woman he’d ever wanted to share his life with, the only woman he’d ever let into his heart.

  And miracle of miracles, she was still single.

  * * *

  “I’LL TAKE YOU home,” Owen said, helping her into her jacket.

  “That’s not—”

  “Yes,” he said, draping her wool scarf around her neck. “It is.”

  Meg shivered despite the crowded warmth of the Dahl. She recognized the look. She’d seen that “I want to be alone with you so I can kiss your socks off” look before. She’d spent an entire summer basking in the glow of that particular expression in his eyes.

  “Come on.” He took her hand and tugged her toward the door. She didn’t have the breath in her to say good-night to anyone, to answer calls of “thanks” and “see you tomorrow” and “we did great, didn’t we?”

  That summer. That summer she’d learned to roast beef and fry steaks and slowly cook enormous slabs of pork ribs...build a fire, drive a feed truck and saddle a horse. That summer she’d also learned how to kiss and be kissed. How by simply touching Owen’s hand she could make him grin. That rubbing the spot between his shoulder blades where his shirt stretched over his muscles could make him growl and laugh and tip her onto her back in the rough prairie grass.

  “But Shelly—”

  “Is all taken care of. I checked.”

  “But—”

  “She’s safe with Les,” he said, guiding her through the door with his large hand on her back.

  Memories of that protective, gentle side of him rushed over her. That summer she’d learned the power of his touch could make her body turn to jelly. And to trust him not to drop her when he lifted her in his arms and deposited her on the back of her horse.

  She felt that intensity in him now. She didn’t know whether to run or stop dead in her tracks and hope to freeze to death before her embarrassment grew any worse.

  The wind, cold and relentless, hit her in the face the minute they rounded the corner of the building and headed north to his truck. A blessing, she thought, because it saved them both the bother of trying to speak. This was no warm summer evening by the Little Judith River. Thank goodness.

  Owen put his arm around her and Meg was grateful for the warmth. Winter was coming faster this year, everyone said. Up until tonight she hadn’t believed it. They hurried to the truck and Owen opened the passenger door and ushered her inside.

  When he joined her, he quickly started the engine and pushed several buttons on the dashboard. “Heated seats,” he said. “It will be warm in here soon.”

  “We’re only going half a mile.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and pulled out her gloves, which she’d forgotten about.

  “It heats up fast.” He made no move to put the car in gear. Instead he turned toward her. “I’d like you to come out to the ranch.”

  “Tonight?” Meg could hear the shock in her voice. She struggled with the gloves until she managed to get them on. “Absolutely not.”

  Owen chuckled softly. “No.... Not that I wouldn’t like the company.”

  She attempted to make light of it. “The genetic hermit curse again?”

  He shook his head. “No. The wanting Meg Ripley curse again.”

  She thought about that, especially since it didn’t seem as if they were going anywhere at the moment. “Why?”

  “I can’t seem to stop.” He reached over and tugged at her scarf, fingering the nubby material between his thumb and index finger.

  “Then don’t—” She stopped talking when he tugged her closer, caressed her face and ever so slowly leaned toward her.

  “Don’t what?” His lips grazed the left corner of her lips. Then the right. She lifted her face to his and his lips brushed against hers once, twice. “This?” he asked, sliding both large hands along either side of her face.

  It was all so deliciously familiar. Meg closed her eyes and let herself remember, just a little, as the tempting kisses deepened into something more. And she welcomed them, tilted her head to make it easy to kiss him back. Her gloved hands went to his shoulders, but their bodies remained apart. The wide console of the truck saw to that.

  His lips teased hers as if the past fourteen years had never happened. She kissed him as if she’d never stopped, and never would.

  Owen eventually paused and took a breath. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.”

  “Someone is going to see us,” Meg said. The steamed-up windows were a dead giveaway if the partiers at the Dahl walked past. And they would know whose truck it was, and who Owen had left with. “It will be the gossip over breakfast tomorrow.”

  He paid no attention to her comment. “I think you’ve wanted to do that for a long time, too.”

  “You want me to say I’ve missed you,” Meg said, looking at his familiar face with affection.

  He smiled and ran his index finger along her cheek. “Yes. Because I certainly have.”

  “It was fun,” she admitted, silently willing her heartbeat to slow down to something less disconcerting. “Remembering.”

  “Come out to the ranch tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a beautiful day. We’ll take out a couple of horses and do some more...remembering.”

  “I have to paint,” she said, pleased to have an excuse. It would be too easy to fall in love with this man again. Too easy to make a fool of herself. She’d thought he’d wait for her, had desperately counted on his understanding what she needed to do before getting married. “Mike and Jack are coming over after they get out of work.”

  “Jack?”

  “Dugan. Town council, handsome, works at the feed store,” she reminded him. “Jerry thinks he’s going to be a big hit with the ladies.”

  “Then we’ll be back before that,” he said. “Put Shelly and Al in charge of breakfast and come out with me.” Owen gave her one more hot, melting kiss as if she’d said yes, then turned away and put the truck in gear. Heat blasted from the vents now and Meg snuggled into her seat for the short ride home.

  He walked her to the door of her little cabin. She wanted to ask him in; she wanted to keep him out. She could fall in love with him so easily, drop into the churning pit of emotions all too easily.

  Why, oh, why did that sound appealing? She simply wanted Owen to kiss her, to keep kissing her, to wrap her up in those strong arms of his and take her back to a time when she’d felt beautiful and joyous and loved.

  “I’ll pick you up at nine,” he said, taking her key from her and unlocking the door. One brief, toe-curling kiss and he was gone.

  Meg switched on a light and closed the door behind her. Her cabin had never felt so cozy. Or so empty.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “SO,” LUCIA WHISPERED, leaning over the counter to prevent anyone from overhearing. “When were you going to tell me?”

  Meg didn’t have to ask what her friend meant. She’d seen a few curious looks this morning, from the time she’d turned on the lights at 6:00 a.m. and three customers had followed her inside. Al, on the job by five, handed her a cup of coffee and said, “It’s gonna be all over town.”

  She hadn’t asked how he’d known, but since he lived right in Willing, she assumed he’d seen her in Owen’s truck.

  “I couldn’t call you at ten-thirty last night.”

  “No, because you were too busy making out with Owen MacGregor, you little hussy.” Lucia couldn’t contain her giggles. “Come on, tell me everything. Don’t leave out one single detail.”

  Lucia picked up Meg’s coffee cup and her own and walked over to a corner booth while Meg followed. She waved at Shelly, who gave her a thumbs-up sign.

  “Sit,” Lucia said. “Spill your guts. How did t
his happen? When did this happen?”

  Meg slid into the booth and ignored the curious looks from those diners around them. “Does everyone know about it?”

  “Probably. Mama saw you dancing together and said you looked pleased with yourselves. Body language and all that,” Lucia explained. “You know how she is.”

  “Yes. And everyone’s been talking about how Mama can two-step. I guess she dated a guy from Texas before she met your father-in-law?”

  “She’s a woman with many talents. I heard about Mrs. Lyons, too. Eighty years old and moves like Ginger Rogers, according to Mama.”

  “There are no secrets from that woman. How did you find out about the, uh, truck?”

  “Esther was out with her dog. He took off after something and she followed him and there you were—or someone was—and when Mama went over to the Hut to bring Esther something for her dinner, meatballs, I think, well, that’s how I found out.” She took a sip of coffee and tucked her long hair behind her ears, where triple strands of coral-and-black beads hung on gold wires.

  “Nice earrings.”

  “Thanks. Goodwill. Answer the questions, please. Or I’ll make you play Monopoly with Davey.”

  “That’s not funny.” Meg fiddled with her coffee mug. She’d thought about nothing else but this until she finally fell asleep sometime after one. “Okay. I was eighteen—”

  Lucia’s mouth fell open. “You knew him then? Really?”

  “Do you want to hear this or not? Because I have to go home and change in twenty minutes.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’d graduated from high school and taken a job at the MacGregor ranch. Cook’s help for the summer crew. Owen was two years older, so he’d graduated a month before we moved here. I wasn’t getting along with my mother and I needed to make more money than I could working here so I could go to school. Loralee had been married to husband number five—”

  “The one who died and left her this place?”

  “Yes. Bill Smittle. We lived in Billings when she met him. He was a lot older than her. Loralee said he was lonely and needed cheering up. He needed more than cheering up, because he was as poor as a man could get without living under a bridge. No one could ever accuse Loralee of being a gold digger.” She took a sip of coffee and set the mug aside. Lucia waited impatiently.

  “And then?”

  “Loralee worked in a Ford dealership, as a receptionist, which is where she met Bill, before he was fired for not selling enough cars. Six months later Bill told her he owned a place in Willing, and if she wanted to run it for him she was welcome to it. So we moved, and later on that year he was diagnosed with lung cancer.”

  “I remember you telling me about that part,” Lucia said. “But you never told me about Owen MacGregor. I can’t believe you left that out.”

  “It was embarrassing,” Meg explained. “The whole thing. There I was, the daughter of a woman with five—five—husbands. Bill died a few months before I graduated and I couldn’t stand watching her get ready to date again. I wanted to get out of here. So I applied for a job at the Triple M and got it. For the summer.” She looked over at the cash register to make sure Shelly wasn’t too busy, but the girl had everything under control at the moment.

  “And you met the boss’s son.”

  “I did.”

  “And you fell in love.”

  “I did. And so did he.” She felt her cheeks grow hot. “It was a summer romance to end all summer romances. It was...special.”

  “How special?”

  “We thought we’d be in love forever.”

  “Of course,” Lucia replied. “You were a kid.”

  “And then Owen didn’t want to wait. His father needed more help with the ranch and Owen didn’t want to leave. He wanted to—well—we eloped.”

  Lucia was struck silent. She mouthed the word eloped and stared at Meg, so Meg continued with the story she’d never told anyone except her mother.

  “His father caught up with us, took me home and that was that.” She didn’t want to tell Lucia about Mr. MacGregor’s stroke right after the elopement or his death a few weeks later or the ugly scene after the funeral. She didn’t want to remember Owen’s furious attempt to make her see reason.

  “Then what? And how come you never told me this before?”

  “I wanted to move on...and keep my school life separate,” Meg tried to explain. She and Lucia, two strangers from Montana, had roomed together at culinary school. “I didn’t want anyone to know about it.”

  “I thought you were crying because you were homesick,” Lucia said. “So what happened after you couldn’t elope? Did you try again?”

  “His father got sick. And Owen still wanted to get married, but I was scared. I had a scholarship, remember? Just like you. I wanted to wait. He was furious because he didn’t want to leave. His father died before we could make up. And I think he blamed me for everything going wrong.”

  The email address given to her by one of his friends in Willing no longer worked. She’d called his dorm but was told he’d moved out. She’d called the ranch to get contact information for him but the housekeeper had said she didn’t have the authority to give it out. And apparently the woman hadn’t given him her messages.

  She’d waited every weekend for him to return to town, to drive up to the café and haul her into his arms. She’d planned to borrow Loralee’s car and drive to Bozeman to say goodbye before she left for Rhode Island and the January semester at Johnson & Wales, but Loralee had convinced her that if he’d left the dorm he’d probably left the school, advising her to quit pining after someone who didn’t want her.

  “I cannot believe that you, of all people, eloped.”

  “I know. I told you it was embarrassing.”

  “Anyone can do something crazy when they’re eighteen, but you’re so—” She paused, obviously searching for a word that wouldn’t hurt Meg’s feelings. “Cautious. And practical.”

  “And cold,” Meg added with a wince.

  “Well, only to men. I figured that was because of your mother....”

  “I’m meeting him this morning.” Meg leaned back and watched Shelly refill coffee cups for the men stationed in their usual spots at the counter. “He’s taking me out to the ranch.”

  “Did he ever say why he just dropped out of your life without a word?”

  “No. He was grieving,” she explained, wishing the lump in her throat would evaporate. “I always thought he blamed me for his father’s stroke.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucia looked at her with the worried expression she’d give little Tony when he had an ear infection. “Start the whole thing over again?”

  “I won’t get hurt,” she promised, knowing she couldn’t guarantee any such thing. Not after last night.

  “Famous last words,” Lucia muttered, then took a deep breath. “So I guess this is in the category of unfinished business?”

  “The spark is still there,” Meg admitted. The inside of the truck could have burst into flames.

  “Spark or no spark, he left and never looked back. Because you wouldn’t marry him. Could you try to remember that, please?”

  “I got over that a long time ago, honest.”

  “We’re not talking about a long time ago,” her best friend warned. “We’re talking about right now.”

  “And right now I have to go change. We’re going riding.”

  “Riding,” Lucia repeated quietly.

  “Riding,” Meg said. “Just riding, nothing else.”

  Lucia rolled her eyes and groaned. “Oh, please.” She pointed toward the pregnant waitress. “You know how cowboys are.”

  * * *

  HE WAS ALREADY rethinking this idea. At first he’d thought he would impress her if it killed hi
m. And at this rate, with four hours’ sleep and a nervous stomach from too much caffeine, it probably could.

  Now, looking around his mother’s kitchen, he wondered if he’d been too optimistic. Boo looked up at him, tail wagging in the hope that Owen would either feed him another round of breakfast or tell him they were going for a ride.

  He didn’t dare say the word ride in front of the panting dog. Boo wasn’t going to town with him this morning.

  It was supposed to be a clear day, but instead heavy clouds hung overhead and threatened rain. The wind was coming in from the north, but so far wasn’t bad. They could still go out. He’d borrowed a couple of horses from Les early this morning. They were lounging in their freshly prepared stalls in the clean horse barn now.

  He’d spent a couple of hours last night working on the living room. Meaning he’d moved stacks of newspapers, magazines and empty whiskey bottles into the Dumpster. Ed had never thrown anything away. Crossword puzzle books, jigsaw puzzles and worn decks of cards showed how his uncle had passed the time. They went into the Dumpster, too. The dust-covered books, mostly about military history, were now vacuumed and arranged neatly on shelves in the office that had belonged to Owen’s father and which Ed had never used. He’d preferred to set up his computer on an old oak table in the living room.

  Owen had dismantled that scarred table. The large room, once the scene of family gatherings and holiday parties, looked abandoned and old. The dining room felt the same way. Actually, the whole house, all six bedrooms, four bathrooms and a handful of other spaces, looked as if it had seen better days. Which, of course, it had.

  Maybe the real-estate agent had been right to suggest taking a bulldozer to the place, but Owen felt sick to his stomach thinking about it. The old house was structurally sound and still beautiful. Surely someone would want to live here.

  He didn’t want to think about that, either. He was growing accustomed to this ranch again. Sometimes he woke up in the morning and forgot what year it was, how old he was, what he was doing and why.